


Shut Up

by orphan_account



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: FaceFucking, M/M, Radio boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Zombies, Run kink meme prompt:</p><p> <i>Jack and Eugene, facefucking.</i></p><p>  <i>Because seriously, sometimes Eugene just needs Jack to be quiet for a while.</i> </p><p>  <i>(There you go, anon. Porn prompts from all corners.)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up

**Author's Note:**

> And here is my first (written) contribution to the ZR! fandom. Oh man, my smut writing skills are so rusty, so forgive the sloppiness. I hope you enjoy the porn, fellow Runners!
> 
> (Major edits were made from the mess on the kink meme. This is as polished as I could make it OTL)

Today had been a bad day.

 

There was nothing particularly new or groundbreaking; the zombies were shambling, the runners were running and Eugene wanted to kill everything within a five mile radius.

 

They were taking him off the pain meds for his leg.

 

He understood, of course. The wound had been cauterised and he was due to start physio soon, to be doped up to the brim with painkillers would've spelt disaster for all. Besides, as Maxine had so helpfully reminded him, there were other people in need of the meds and they were in short supply. The sooner he was up on crutches and out of her hair, the better. He didn’t think it was unreasonable, Eugene saw the logic in this argument and accepted it. He wasn’t happy about it, but he accepted it.

 

The pain was bearable enough when he was standing still. He'd be a little off kilter, but there was no soul crushing agony that left him as a crumpled heap on the floor. Leaning against Jack helped as well, while he was a bit gangly, Jack was sturdy enough to support the both of them. It wasn't ideal, but there really was no other option until he learnt to use his crutches properly.

 

Mind you, this was just standing still. Walking was an entirely different matter.

 

The exhaustion that came with continuously hopping was bad enough, but after a while, he felt his stump beginning to ache. No... ache was the wrong word. Burning like the seventh layer of Hell was a far more apt description. It was, by no means, as bad as his initial fever after the Fall, and the burn was sporadic at best. However, after a two week diet of painkillers and some opiates, pain was not a sensation he wanted to be reacquainted with.

 

It felt like an eternity before he was finally able to sit down.

 

"Ta-dah! What do you think?"

 

Eugene opened his eyes, unsure as to when he had closed them, and took in his surroundings.

 

A flickering light bulb above their heads, a cramped space, a singular table lined against the wall with a couple pieces of radio equipment scattered across the surface. There was nothing particularly grand about the whole place, and if he was perfectly honest, in his current mood everything looked like a shit hole. The cot that he sat on was scratchy and the material was coarse beneath his fingertips. He had spent a whole day feeling like useless pile of crap, and Jack's chipper mood was really starting to grate on his already frayed nerves.

 

"What do I think about what?" Eugene asked.

 

Jack’s smile grew a little strained. "About this place,” he said, gesturing to the whole of the room as he did. “I managed to do a bit of convincing and asked Sam if we could rent this place out, sorta. I figured we'd need something to kill time, so why not talk to the masses? We're both pretty good at it." Eugene's withering stare seemed to encourage him to keep going, at a faster, more desperate pace. "Look, I thought it'd be a nice thing to do. We got our own place, sorta, and we both have our iPods from before. So why not? Play a bit of music, chat a bit... And public service announcements! Lift the spirits of this place. Come on Eugene, throw me a bone here," he pleaded.

 

Too much. This was all just, too much. "Shut up."

 

"Gene...?"

 

"Shut up. Stop talking. A radio show? That is a stupid idea. So what, are you thinking since I can't walk around anymore, I can't pull my weight like the rest of the Township?" Stop. He needed to stop. This wasn't him talking, this was the accumulation of all the stress he had built up, Jack didn't deserve this.

 

Jack faltered. "N-no, that's not what I'm--"

 

"Oh God, will you just _shut up_?" Eugene snapped. A migraine was beginning to form at the base of his skull, rapidly spreading upwards towards his forehead. A sharp, constant throbbing that made him feel as if his head was stuck in a vice. Pain. Pain in his leg, pain in his head, pain everywhere. He was just so sick of it all.

 

"Sorry."

 

Then there was the guilt thrown in with the pain. Eugene turned his head, unable to look Jack in the eye. He'd said too much and it was too late to take it back. Feeling the day’s events beginning to catch up on him, and needing to escape this horrendous mess he’d landed in, Eugene let out a heavy sigh and placed his crutch by the wall.

 

"Let's just get some sleep," he said, defeated.

 

Jack remained where he was, fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. "I can go, for a little while. Y'know, get some air while you sleep. You're still recovering and all, you need your rest."

 

Eugene felt his irritation beginning to ebb and the guilt increase in intensity. Fabulous. With a small shake of his head, he shifted up against the wall and patted at the empty space beside him, gesturing for Jack to join him. Bracing himself for the oncoming pain —Jack tended to lock him into a bear hug whenever they slept, he told himself, that it was well deserved. A few bouts of pain for Jack’s forgiveness? Completely worth it. This was hardly a proper apology, but it was the best he could come up with.

 

"Just... come here."

 

Jack continued to fidget with his jumper, waves of unease bounding off his scrawny frame for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he yielded to Eugene’s command; the slow, unsteady walk towards the cot was followed by an equally slow decent under the covers. The four inches of space between their bodies was not breached, and his back was so close to the edge, it was a wonder he didn't fall off.

 

"G'night," Jack murmured, with his gaze aimed elsewhere.

 

"...Night, Jack."

 

~*~

 

Eugene couldn't sleep.

 

Thanks to his leg, tossing and turning was not an option, so there really was nothing else to do but to stare at Jack's back and think about what he'd done. Sorry. He should just say sorry and get it over and done with. But then what? Sorry wouldn't change anything, it wouldn't bring his leg back, wouldn't change what had happened. Sorry was just a word, nothing else.

 

The space between them was still there.

 

The irony of it all wasn’t lost upon him, though he hardly appreciated it —no, no. Focus. He needed to focus. Jack wasn't asleep, that much was certain. The breathing was too shallow, for one, Jack tended to sound like a lawnmower when he was really out. Secondly, the muscles in Jack’s back were too tense, too alert. Every now and then, there were minute shifts, a shuffling of the arms or the leg. Never enough movement to rock the cot, and Jack never did dare to make each movement last longer than a couple seconds. Out of fear? Eugene wasn’t sure.

 

Was this how it was going to be like from now on? Jack tip toeing around him as if he were made of glass? Him constantly hurting Jack with misguided anger?

 

Enough was enough.

 

With a strengthened resolve and a deep breath, Eugene reached out and pulled Jack into his arms.

 

"Gene, wha--?"

 

Hands were pushed up Jack's shirt, lips were latched onto the neck bared before him and he pressed himself flush against Jack’s arse. Oh, how he missed this, when was the last time he—? Too long, his mind interjected. Far too long. The feel of heated flesh beneath his fingertips, the way Jack’s breath stuttered when he brushed his nipple, and that _heat_. That delirious, wonderful _heat._

 

A quiet moan leaked into air, he wasn’t sure to whom it belonged to, didn’t care. Eugene bit down against his neck, pulled Jack closer and ground against him.

 

"F-fuck." Jack whimpered as he shifted back, once and then twice before reluctantly pulling away so he could roll Eugene onto his back. Knees ended up on either side of Eugene’s hips, leaving him firmly pinned against the cot. He wasn’t complaining, he had a perfect view of the pale flush creeping across Jack’s face.

 

Staring down at him with a sheepish smile, Jack leant down to kiss Eugene, long and slow. "I guess that means I'm forgiven?" he murmured as he began to pull back.

 

Eugene pulled him back down, capturing his mouth in a deep, dirty kiss. "Idiot, why are you apologising?"

 

Jack blinked, sat up and stared down at him with a look of confusion. "Because--"

 

"Shut up," Eugene cut off. A swift tug of the hips and a hard grind against their clothed erections served to keep them both quiet.

 

From where he lay, Eugene could see the flash of inspiration in Jack's eyes, the look he had when he was about to do something amazing or profoundly stupid. Illogical, wonderful, arousal swept through him, curling at the bottom of his stomach and spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes. It took all of his willpower not to rut against Jack and come in his pants, right there and then.

 

Impatience was starting to cloud his mind and Jack’s heated gaze was not helping matters. So just as Eugene opened his mouth to question his partner, Jack had sprang into action —scrabbling down his body and running his hands over his sides with a swift, hard slide. His hands came to rest at Eugene’s crotch and a quick grope had short circuited Eugene’s brain; frying his synapses and leaving his vision white.

 

Eugene took a deep breath through his nose —once, then twice before looking down. Jack had started to work at the fasteners on his jeans like a being possessed. Gone was the slow teasing, but instead, carnal lust had taken over.

 

Oh.

 

His jeans were undone and thrown to the side in record time. Eugene could not bring himself to care.

 

He sat up, with great effort and was able to see the wicked smile on Jack's face when he did. His mouth dried at the sight in front of him. Jack leaning over his erection, and with a slow slide, a flash of pink swiped across those flushed, dry lips. It was an age before those lips were pressed onto the bulge. The wet fabric against his erection was unbearable, the muted sensation of the tongue left him wanting more, left him writhing against the cot. Not enough, it wasn’t enough. He needed more, to get out the sodden pair of underwear and to feel Jack upon him.

 

As if Jack had read his mind, the boxers were shifted down and Eugene was unable to stop the moan that was torn from his throat. God damn, Jack was not meant to be this good, was not meant to reduce him to this senseless mess. The hand that wrapped around him was cool and the puffs of air against the head of his cock left him feeling dizzy. At this rate, he would come before it even began.

 

A swift, teasing lick against the crown of his cock left him breathless. "You wanted me to shut up," Jack all but sang. Eugene shivered.

 

Through half lidded eyes, Jack stared up at him, waiting for a response. When there wasn’t one, Jack felt the need to jump start his brain with a slow jerk of his hand. Eugene’s mind blanked. Respond, Woods! Nothing was going to happen until he responded.

 

"T-this is one way of doing it," he replied shakily, feeling his resolve crumble at the edges. "Fuck, stop teasing already." His fingers flexed and clenched, uselessly trying to find purchase on the cot’s taut fabric.

 

And in one greedy motion, Jack opened his mouth wide and sank down onto him.

 

Hot, wet, slippery, and oh God, it took every ounce of self control he had not to buck his hips into that sinful mouth. Eugene was faintly aware of the hands on his hips, but tongue that swiped at the underside of his cock demanded far more attention. That tight, dizzying heat constricted around him as Jack swallowed, sinking lower and lower before those plush lips touched the base. Another all encompassing swallow, before the sweet torture started once more. The slide back up his length was just as agonising as the slide down, too slow. Not enough contact. And oh, was the tongue lapping at his dripping slit really necessary?

 

Eugene's hands came to Jack's head, clutching at the curls and eliciting a moan from beneath him. When that sultry gaze peered up at him from beneath those lashes, Eugene felt his self control snap.

 

His hips bucked and his hands gripped at either side of Jack's head, thrusting into that wet heat over and over. The pleasure he felt was euphoric, carnal and taking control back felt so, so good. Saliva trickled down his length and with each push and pull, Jack followed after with no resistance. His pace grew faster as he felt the pressure within him grow; the slide and sight of Jack’s lips on his cock only made him thrust harder.

 

Somewhere, a small part of his brain told him to slow down, that he could be hurting Jack but the hands that gripped at his hips and the low moans beneath him told him otherwise.

 

He wasn't going to last.

 

No sooner had he thought that, Eugene felt his lungs empty of air. He stilled, holding Jack's head mid pull and shuddered, emptying out into the wide, open mouth on him. Eugene came with a gasp, a quiet utterance of Jack's name before falling back into the cot and releasing his vice-like grip on Jack’s head.

 

Deep, heavy breaths and pants filled the otherwise silent room as Eugene did his best to recover, resting his forearm over his eyes as he did. Jack shifted above him, moving his body weight onto his heels, from what Eugene could feel. After what felt like years, Eugene moved his arm and opened his eyes to check how Jack was doing.

 

His mouth went dry.

 

‘Debauched’ was the word that instantly came to mind. With a saliva-semen mixture dripping from his mouth and his hair thoroughly mussed, Eugene was unable to tear his eyes away when Jack wiped the remnants off his lips and proceeded to suck it off his fingertips. A thick swallow and a sultry gaze aimed towards him left Eugene shifting uncomfortably from where he laid. And when Jack smiled slowly at him, it was just a touch too cocky.

 

A silent challenge was made —the gauntlet had been thrown.

 

Eugene returned the smirk. "My turn," he declared, before pulling him down into a deep, hungry kiss.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
